


Inevitable

by Skylark42



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-29 00:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20072812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark42/pseuds/Skylark42
Summary: Quentin matters; Quentin is something precious. He's good and kind and loyal, and he believes, he believes in things so hard. It makes him beautiful, the most beautiful thing Eliot has ever seen and he wants to be worthy of that belief, of Quentin's unyielding faith.





	Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> Set right after the kissing scene in 3x05.

It's unexpected, but not unwelcome when Quentin kisses him. Of course, he's terrible at it, too nervous and on edge to put any finesse into it. But Eliot takes it for what it is, an invitation.

So he kisses Quentin back, cups his jaw and really kisses him. It starts out sweet, almost chaste, but then Quentin makes this needy little noise in the back of his throat, and Eliot's control snaps. He licks into Quentin's mouth and Quentin grabs at him, hands unsure where to go. They end up buried in his shirt like Quentin is holding on for dear life.

Eliot pulls the tie out of Quentin's hair and gets a hand in his locks. He uses the grip to tilt Quentin to a better angle and the tug makes Quentin moan into his mouth. It's interesting, something to file away for further dissection later. He breaks the kiss and mouths along Quentin's jaw, down his neck, sucking the delicate skin into his mouth. He bites down gently and suddenly there's a hand in his hair and Quentin is saying his name like it's something holy.

Eliot wonders how long Quentin has wanted this. If he even wants this, and isn't settling because lack of other options. But that thought spoils the mood, and Eliot does want, and he'll take what he can get. He'll take anything Quentin will give him. He's wanted Quentin for so long he doesn't remember not wanting him.

It doesn't feel like his normal crush on some tragically straight boy—though he's had a few of them kiss him as well. Quentin matters; Quentin is something precious. He's good and kind and loyal, and he believes, he believes in things so hard. It makes him beautiful, the most beautiful thing Eliot has ever seen and he wants to be worthy of that belief, of Quentin's unyielding faith.

“Eliot, I want you,” Quentin pants, voice breathy and small.

“Want me to what? Anything, I'll do it,” Eliot says, nuzzling the hollow of his throat. Quentin's so pretty like this, a blush turning him pink all the way down to his chest.

Quentin isn't meeting his eyes and he looks embarrassed. Eliot wraps their fingers together. “Q, talk to me.”

“I want you to fuck me. If you want.”

_Holy shit_. Eliot's brain short circuits for a second. “If I want? Oh, I want.” He surges across the distance between them and kisses Quentin again and Quentin grabs him desperately. He moves his mouth against Quentin's pulling back to suck on his lower lip and Quentin moans.

Eliot wants to take his time, to savor this, but Quentin is making it hard with the way he keeps making noises. Eliot pulls Quentin's shirt over his head and attacks his collarbones. Every part of Quentin looks delectable, good enough to eat. He wishes he had a real bed to spread him out on and devour him. He mouths down his chest, to his navel and Quentin sucks in a sharp breath. He dips his tongue inside then kisses back up to Quentin's nipple, laving his tongue over it and sucking. Quentin curses and arches against him, hands digging uselessly into the ground.

There's already an erection straining Quentin's pants, and it would be a shame to waste it. Eliot opens his fly and mouths at him over his boxers. He licks brood swipes up and kisses his way down, stopping to suckle occasionally. Quentin nearly sobs above him. “Please, El I need, I need-”

“Shh, I got you,” Eliot says gently, and draws him out. His tip is leaking precome and Eliot flicks his tongue over it to taste. Quentin writhes and Eliot has to put his hands on his hips to hold him down. “Hold still and let me take care of you.”

Eliot's good at giving head; he knows this because all of his partners have said so. Still, he pulls out all his tricks for Quentin, he wants Q to remember him as the best he's ever had. He's taken him all the way down and swallowing around him when Quentin starts to say his name, babbling “Shit, fuck, El I'm going to, I can't-”

Eliot pops off him with an obscene sound and replaces his mouth with his hand. “Not yet, baby.” He inwardly winces, did he really just call Quentin baby? Quentin didn't seem to notice or care, so Eliot lets it slide, he can worry about why he's using pet names later. He tugs on Quentin's pants and he lifts his hips to help Eliot pull them off.

Eliot nibbles his way up Quentin's thigh, up between his legs. He swipes his tongue over Quentin's hole and Quentin jerks. Eliot does it again, circling the tight little furl until it starts to loosen. Quentin is all but whimpering, and it sounds so hot, Eliot wants to keep doing this as long as he can if Q makes those sounds. He breeches him with his tongue and Quentin swears, a hand coming down to bury in his hair. “Oh god, Eliot, don't stop.”

Eliot lifts Quentin's hips a little, trying to angle them and find his prostate. He knows he's successful when Quentin's thighs close around his head and his ankles dig into his back. He circles it mercilessly until Quentin's thighs start to shake and he's all but sobbing. “Eliot, please, I need you now, I need you to fuck me, Eliot.”

Eliot quiets him with a finger against his lips. “I know, but I'm going to need you to take a few fingers first. Suck, get them wet for me.”

The way Quentin sucks is obscene, it reminds him of the time Quentin sucked him off. The memory is hazy at best, but Eliot knows down to his bones that it was good, that Quentin was good. It makes him want to take him right there, but he knows Quentin has never done this before and he doesn't want to hurt him. Fillory doesn't exactly keep the local market stocked up with lube, so spit and determination are all they have to go on.

Quentin winces when he first breeches him, but Eliot quickly find his prostate and rubs until Quentin is moaning and writhing again. He adds the second and starts to scissor them, keeping careful eye on Quentin's face to see if he's in pain. He adds a third just to be sure, even though most his partners were fine with two. He doesn't want to cause Quentin any discomfort if he can avoid it. He thrusts his fingers in, finding Quentin's prostate ever other thrust until Quentin is babbling and begging him to fuck him.

Eliot kisses him to distract him from the feel of pulling out his fingers, Quentin sucks on his tongue and moans into his mouth. It occurs to Eliot that he and Quentin are about to fuck out in the open where anyone can see them. He can't be bothered to care.

He lines up and slowly starts to push inside. It's all he can do to not thrust in all at once. Quentin's hot and tight and _perfect_, so much better than he imagined. He gives him a moment to adjust. Quentin looks...not uncomfortable, exactly, but surprised. “You ready?”

“God, yes.”

Eliot slowly eases all the way inside then back out. He starts a rhythm that's slow and deep. Quentin's ankles come to hook around his waist. He can't stop making these delicious noises, sounds that are being dragged out of him even through the hand he's put over his mouth.

Eliot pulls the hand away and kisses his wrist, his palm. “Let me hear you.”

Quentin let's out the noise without restraint, groaning and saying Eliot's name. “God, Eliot...never knew it could feel like this, so good.”

Eliot increases the pace, planting kisses on Quentin anywhere he can reach. He's babbling some nonsense to Quentin about how perfect he is, but that's okay, it's just sweet nothings, everyone says things like that in the heat of the moment. Quentin drags his face up and kisses him, kisses him, kisses him. “El, I've wanted this for long.”

It's almost too much, almost sends him over the edge. He wraps a hand around Quentin, strokes in time with his thrusts, determined to see Quentin come first. It only takes a minute and Quentin is spilling over his hand, clenching around him hot and sweet, and Eliot follows him over the edge.

He's not sure what he said when he came. He hopes it's nothing he can't take back.

“That was-” starts Quenting, unable to find the words. He makes a vague hand gesture.

“Yeah it was,” Eliot agrees.

“Do we need to talk about this?” Quentin rolls on his side and looks at Eliot with a serious expression.

“Shh, we'll talk in the morning. Don't ruin the after glow.”

In the morning, he'll have to find another excuse. Until then, Eliot will savor this time with Quentin, before it all inevitably ends.

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing these two, so I'd love to hear your thoughts.


End file.
